Why had he done that? How had he got them? Surely her mum hadn’t given them to him?
Her heart like a big bass drum in her chest, Sophie shuffled through a few more and then stopped, a knot of apprehension tightening her tummy as she noticed that there were also much more recent photographs. Photographs that Luke should have been in – a family portrait, in particular. Sophie remembered that one so clearly. Her mum had had it framed for the hall wall. Justin had a copy of it in his office. In the photo, Sophie was sitting next to her mum on the sofa, her arm around her shoulders. Luke had been in her mum’s arms, but now he was gone. Cropped out. Like he didn’t exist.
There were more photographs in another drawer, all exclusively of her mum. Not posed, these photos hadn’t been taken by Justin or her. They’d been taken by Paul, Sophie realised. Photos from over the years: Alicia walking along the street; loading her shopping into the car; coming out of the office where she worked. There was one of her painting their house, for fuck’s sake. Hadn’t he been in Dubai, time slipping by while he worked himself to death trying to get over the loss of his family?
Liar!
Scraping the photos together and furiously shoving them back in their envelope, Sophie put it back, slammed the drawer shut and moved to the last drawer.
It was stuck. Shit! Checking the time on the desk clock, she glanced worriedly towards the door and then yanked at the drawer. It was definitely jammed, not locked. Crouching down, pressing one hand against the desk for leverage, she tugged harder, and then fell back on her haunches as it gave.
Scrambling back, Sophie peered into it, and her heart skittered to a stop inside her. It was fairly obvious what had caused it to jam. Swallowing back a sick taste in her throat, Sophie reached for it: Luke’s pink elephant toy. One of its floppy ears had got caught between the desk and the drawer and been torn clean off. He’d stuffed it in there as if it didn’t matter. As if it wasn’t the most important thing Sophie had ever, or would ever, possess in her life.
He’d taken it. Taken it from her.
A huge lump in her throat, Sophie lifted it to her face and sniffed it. His scent was still there – barely. Her little baby brother. Choking back the tears that stung the backs of her eyes, she delved further into the drawer. Feeling something smooth and cold towards the back of it, something with a chain attached, she fished it out. It was a locket. A gold locket, decorated with a flower motif.
Her mum’s?
Sophie stopped breathing. With trembling fingers, she prised it open. Luke’s little face looked back at her. His perfect cupid lips were curved into a delighted, gummy smile. His beautiful blue eyes, wide with the innocence of childhood, were dancing with glee.
Oh God, Luke.
Her mum hadn’t given him this. She hadn’t given him any of this. He’d taken these, too. Feeling the room shift around her, Sophie tried to breathe slowly, like Justin had once taught her, when she’d had a major panic about her part in the school play. Calm – he’d always been that. Calm and measured. Suddenly, Sophie wanted very much to go home.
Having a final check in the drawer, she wasn’t surprised, somehow, to find her old phone as well as the new one.
Breathe. Doing what Justin would, Sophie tried to focus. Sliding the phone into her back pocket, she fastened the locket shakily around her neck, making sure it dropped below her neckline. Then, resting pink Ephalump, as they’d christened him, on the desk, she used her foot to shove the stuck drawer back into place and then relocked the other drawers.
Checking everything looked as it should at first glance, her gaze snagged on something she hadn’t previously noticed on the top of his in tray. Seeing the letter was from The DNA People, she snatched it up, quickly pulling the contents out.
It was a paternity test. The report included all sorts of indecipherable tables – Genetic System Table, Combined Paternity Index – and figures relating to ‘case number’, ‘child, mother’, ‘alleged father’. Nausea almost choking her, Sophie hurriedly scanned it. She couldn’t digest the information enough to understand it. It made no sense – until she reached the Paternity Test Conclusions, which clearly stated that ‘Paul Radley is excluded as the biological father.’
Shaking, Sophie blinked at it, uncomprehending for a second, and then froze.
‘Do you not understand basic instructions, Sophie?’ Paul said, his face white with anger as he walked quietly through the study door and saw the letter in her hand.
Sixty-Six
JUSTIN
Justin had parked as close as he could to the apartment block he’d previously followed Radley to, and was now walking away from his car, his intention to have a quiet word with the piece of scum that walked around in the guise of a man. He thought of Alicia, his chest constricting as he pictured what she might have gone through, even without knowing the details. It still hurt that she had lied to him, but now he was pained because she’d felt she’d had to. That was on him, not her. He needed to put it right – or try to. To listen to her, if she wanted to talk. To be there, if she didn’t. Assuming Radley didn’t report him, that was. Justin had an idea he wouldn’t, given the implications for himself. He wasn’t quite sure how this would go yet, what he would do to him, though the temptation to give in to his anger was overwhelming – show the bastard what it was like to be raped with a very intrusive object and then castrate him and render him truly powerless.
Possibly not a good idea if he did want to be there for Alicia and find Sophie. But the threat might be sufficient. The knowledge that Justin could render him helpless any time he wanted to might give Radley an inkling of how he’d made Alicia feel. Had there been other women? Probably. It wouldn’t be enough – not nearly enough – to quash the burning rage inside him, but Justin supposed it would have to do.
Hearing his phone ring, he checked the number. Not Alicia. Jessica. She’d already called once, leaving him a message: an attempt at an apology for misreading the signs. He’d rung her back and told her it wasn’t a good idea to call him again, as reasonably as he could. And now here she was, doing just that. Sighing, Justin hesitated, and then thinking that it might actually have something to do with Alicia, he took the call.
‘Justin, you need to do something. She’s going to meet him,’ Jessica said immediately.
‘What?’ His stomach turning over, Justin stopped in his tracks.
‘She’s going to meet him,’ Jessica repeated frantically. ‘He said she should go alone. I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried to convince her to let me go with her, to call you, but she won’t. Justin, he has her.’
Reeling on his feet, Justin told her to slow down. He couldn’t keep up with her. Couldn’t make sense of it. Couldn’t breathe.
‘Sophie!’ Jessica cried. ‘Paul Radley has her! He has her passport, too. Alicia thinks he must have taken it from the house when he was there. You have to do something, Justin.’
Sophie? Justin’s heart careered to a stop in his chest – and then kicked back hard. ‘Where?’ he asked, his emotions colliding, his adrenaline pumping, his mind focussing.
Breathe, he commanded himself, sucking air deep into his lungs. Ignoring the pain that seared through his chest.
‘At his apartment – Central Plaza, 153b. Eight o’clock. He sent Alicia a photo of Sophie. It could only have been taken by him.’
Justin’s gut twisted violently. ‘What kind of photo?’
‘Nothing explicit,’ Jessica said quickly, clearly understanding his meaning. ‘She was sleeping. He’d placed her passport next to her. He’s obviously trying to tell to Alicia that he’ll take her away if she doesn’t turn up. Oh God, Justin, I have no idea what to—’
‘How do you know where he lives?’ Justin demanded.